Part 11 (2/2)
”Jo,” she said gravely and meaningly, ”I am _Penelope Lamont_, and I am a young lady--out of my teens.”
”'Scuse,” he answered seriously, ”but you don't dress it.”
”She's got on Doris's clothes,” explained Betty, ”'cause she didn't bring any of her own, and she's our Aunty Penny.”
”No,” he said solemnly. ”No, she ain't! You've got it wrong side to. Her name is Penny Ante.”
”It isn't either!” cried Betty angrily, with a stamp of her little foot.
”Uncle Kurt brought her here. She's his company, so you'd better look out, Jo Gary!” warned Billy.
Jo made a mock gesture of alarm and s.h.i.+elded his face with his arm as if from an imaginary blow.
”Now, why didn't you say so in the first place! My, ain't it the luck for me that he won't be sheriff when he comes back! He might have had me put in the lock-up.”
”I am not Mr. Walters' company--not now,” explained Pen. ”I came up here with him, to be sure, but Mrs. Kingdon has asked me to be her company until I am well. I have been ill.”
”Double 'scuse. And this is the best place in the world to get well. Some little old ranch, and Kurt Walters is some foreman.”
”Aren't you foreman now?”
”When Kurt is here, I'm nothing but a cow-hand; when he is away, I'm only acting foreman. I'll never be anything but just acting-something, I guess.”
”Kurt Walters was only acting sheriff.”
”That's so. We seem to be mostly actingers or actorines,” he allowed.
”Say!” turning ferociously to Francis, ”what business has a boy looking like an owl? Loosen up, and have some pep!”
The boy's fair face flushed.
”It's none of your business how I look, Jo Gary!”
”Wow! Now you're talking. We can't fight before a lady, though.”
”Cook says you look like a wishbone, Jo,” taunted Billy, coming to his brother's defense.
”She did, did she? Well, the cook can hang me over her door, and then--I'll kiss her.”
”I'll tell her, and she won't dance with you to-night.”
”If you do,” threatened Jo, ”I won't tell you where there are four little, new kittens what haven't got their peepers opened yet.”
”Oh, where, Jo? We'll not tell her. Please, Jo!” pleaded Betty.
”I choose to name them,” said Francis. ”Tell, Jo.”
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